


Wisps of Smoke

by deripmaver



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Bathroom Sex, Brother/Brother Incest, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Frottage, Incest, Incest Kink, M/M, Past Underage Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Secret Santa, Sibling Incest, as in sex while high nothing nefarious, consensual and briefly mentioned, the regent doesnt exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deripmaver/pseuds/deripmaver
Summary: Auguste and Laurent relax and smoke chalis together in the baths.[Written for Capri Secret Santa 2020!]
Relationships: Auguste/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68
Collections: Captive Prince Secret Santa 2020





	Wisps of Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ksanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksanne/gifts).



> hey so kass drew this wonderful lauguste [art piece](https://ancelegance.tumblr.com/post/635164822428844032/auguste-and-laurent-chilling-and-soaking-with) and when i got her as my secret santa the opportunity was too good to pass up!!!!! i knew i had to write something for it (eyes emoji) 
> 
> ily girl <3333 i hope your holidays are merry and bright and full of fluffy brocon

Auguste relaxed in the baths, damp golden curls spilling like sunlight down his back as he took a deep drag of chalis from his pipe. Laurent eyed him, swallowing thickly as he watched his brother smoke, watched his lips purse around the tip of the pipe, erotic and pink as the dark flush on his cheeks. When he pulled the pipe from his mouth, his saliva left a glossy shine on the end of it.

Laurent wanted to put the pipe in his mouth and taste him – an indirect kiss.

He made sure to rustle a little, so as not to startle his brother as the drugged haze settled over him, and he made his way to the edge of the baths, overcome with shyness. When Auguste saw him, his red-rimmed eyes glittered with a sultry sort of glow, and Laurent felt the heat bloom on his cheeks.

Auguste always moved with an easy grace, a ripple of well-honed muscle and smooth skin, but high like this he seemed to carry an additional languidness in his limbs, making him move like the draping branches of a willow tree in the gentle breeze.

Laurent swallowed, and he watched Auguste’s eyes trace the line of his neck. It made him feel even hotter. His hair tickled his neck where it stuck to the skin in some combination of sweat and steam.

He took the collar of his robe, silk, draped luxuriously over his shoulders, and dropped it in one swift motion to the floor to reveal his naked body.

Auguste’s eyes slipped downward before he could stop himself, and Laurent allowed himself a secret smile. His brother’s lips were wet and red and gently parted in amazement, half genuine and half the effects of the drug.

Laurent was already half hard, just from watching Auguste bathe. His cock was thickened between his legs, flushed pink like his cheeks, the cockhead just barely beginning to peek out from the foreskin covering it. He ran his hand shyly over his stomach, letting the little shivers raise the hairs on his arms.

“May I join you in the bath, brother?” he teased, as though he were not already naked bathside, toe dipping into the deep pool to test the water’s heat.

Auguste stared for a moment before remembering himself, and his lips curled in a way that made Laurent’s blood sing. His voice was husky, raspy with smoke, and he murmured, “Of course, Lulu.”

Laurent’s cheeks colored violently at that, the sudden heat making him lightheaded. Auguste, even high on chalis, never failed to make him feel foolish and fumbling as a little boy. There was something erotic about it, like he did it so he could take Laurent’s hands and lead him through their lovemaking, teaching him things he’d long since learned but making it fresh and exciting each time.

The water licked hot stripes along his thighs as he slid inside. Auguste continued to smoke absently, watching him submerge, eyes glassy and yet somehow so intent they burned him. Laurent felt naked and exposed on some primal level with Auguste looking at him like that, with that heady gaze, like Auguste’s fingers were kneading the very muscle of his brain.

His body curled with youthful shyness, remembering when he would hide behind Auguste’s legs around strangers – before he learned the better spot was kneeling in front of them.

Laurent nestled in beside Auguste in the bath, maneuvering those languid limbs to curl up at his side, Auguste’s arm around him while he smoked. It was heady here, the scent of chalis sweet in the air, mixing with the thick steam. It coated his throat, relaxed his muscles, made him soft and pliant against Auguste’s side.

Relaxation made him bold.

He plucked the pipe from between Auguste’s calloused fingers and brought it to his own lips, taking a deep drag. The drug burned as it filled his lungs, scratching like the tingle of a limb gone numb. He tasted Auguste’s saliva on the edge of the pipe, making his lips tingle, like a secret shared just between the two of them.

Auguste took the pipe back after a moment, and they smoked together as the candles flickered over the rippling water of the bath.

“Auguste,” Laurent murmured, a flush on his cheeks, on his chest from more than just the heat. Auguste’s body was a warm, reassuring weight beside him, and he nuzzled against the firm muscle of Auguste’s chest like he wanted to burrow underneath his skin.

The drug settled around him like a warm blanket, like the heat of his brother’s body. It radiated and thrummed under his skin and sang through his veins, sweet like honey lapped off of hot flesh. He started making little noises, a combination of relaxation and arousal.

“What’s wrong, baby brother?” Auguste breathed at him. His eyes were cool water, a balm that soothed the heat around them both.

The room was empty. He’d dismissed the servants before he’d stepped, naked, into the bath – his skin tingled at the thought of scandal, though, at one of them lurking in the shadows and watching the way he pressed closed to the King. Both of them were aware of the whispers – how the King of Vere had not taken a wife, how the Crown Prince steadfastly ignored the fawning pets at court and even the fair number of powerful suitors.

It thrilled Laurent, wondering what they imagined when Laurent closed the door behind the two of them.

He knelt on the stone bench within the bath, bringing his lips to hover over Auguste’s, so close he could smell the drug still clinging to them, could feel the wet heat of his panting breaths. When Auguste sucked in a breath, Laurent let his lips curl into a smirk, and he leaned just out of reach to take a deep drag from the chalis pipe.

Laurent crushed his lips to Auguste’s then, blowing the inhaled smoke deep into his brother’s mouth when it parted in surprise. Auguste made a very undignified sound, but he took in the breath of smoke from Laurent, exhaling it between them as they kissed hard and fierce.

The water splashed around them, splattering over the slick tile as Laurent straddled Auguste’s legs. He felt like he was moving both too slow and too fast at the same time, limbs clumsy with the drug, length hard between his legs. The sudden noise felt almost sharp, unpleasant in his ears, and he took a moment to wrap his arms around Auguste’s slick shoulders and bury his nose in Auguste’s neck to inhale the dampness of his scent there, mingled with the smoke all around them.

Laurent took those moments where his brain caught up to his limbs to mouth at the throbbing pulse at Auguste’s neck, rocking his hips clumsily, almost shyly. He hadn’t been a virgin in years, but he sometimes liked to play at that boyish naivete, liked turning his analytical mind off and letting Auguste lead him just like they were children at play again.

They kissed again, languidly and tasting of smoke, and Auguste brought his hands to the supple curves of Laurent’s ass to help him rock his hips. Even though Laurent knew what Auguste liked, he enjoyed the feeling of Auguste moving him.

 _Teach me, big brother_.

Laurent didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke often. He hated how the drugs and alcohol interfered with his analytical mind. He needed to be sharp and bright for Auguste, to protect him from threats he couldn’t muscle his way out of. He was hopelessly devoted to Auguste, to his rule, to his happiness.

Here, though, in the baths, it was possible to just be together. It was possible for him to become loose and limp and relaxed, kissing leaving tingling wetness against his lips that radiated along his skin long after the touch was gone in that drugged haze only chalis could produce.

Their cocks pressed together as Laurent straddled his legs wider around Auguste’s. Auguste’s cock was thick, flushed and dark, the tip red as a cherry pressed between parted lips on a sweet summer afternoon. Laurent had memorized that shape, the feel of it – he thought if he were blinded, he would know Auguste just from the dips and curves of his body.

“Auguste,” Laurent breathed. Auguste felt so good pressed against him, warm as a crackling fire but hard as cut marble. His cock slotted against Laurent’s perfectly, and the breath left Laurent’s lungs in soft pants and gasps as the thick vein running along it pulsed against his skin.

Auguste said nothing. He kissed Laurent fiercely, his hand reaching down between them to press their cocks together, panting furiously into the wet heat of his brother’s mouth.

“Auguste!” Laurent cried out as the warmth of Auguste’s hand enveloped him, so big it could take both of them easily in its grip. There were callouses on those rough fingers, pressing deliciously into his cock, and when Auguste pressed at that knot of nerves just beneath the cockhead Laurent saw stars burst behind his eyes. It was so much more intense now that he was high, like each touch was a radiating spark of pleasure that lingered like the warmth of the sun after it had set.

Auguste grunted. He didn’t say much to Laurent during sex even while sober, but he didn’t have to. His hands, his cock spoke what he couldn’t say. Auguste hadn’t been raised to be a romantic, he’d been raised to be the king – and yet, in bed with him, Laurent saw what might’ve become a poet in another life, fingers calloused from writing stanzas instead of wielding swords.

Not that Laurent was much of a romantic himself – the moment Auguste had taken the throne, Laurent turned his mind into his greatest, sharpest weapon. What he lacked in physical prowess he made up for in a cutting mind and keen senses.

The court of Vere was treacherous, and Laurent made sure any wayward courtiers were just as afraid of crossing him as crossing his brother.

“Laurent,” Auguste breathed against his lips, and Laurent’s mind stopped wandering. He focused only on their bodies, so close and comfortable it was as though nothing could come between them.

Auguste’s hand was unceasing, now, rough and yet with a tenderness that touched Laurent’s heart. It took only a moment, but when his orgasm came, it pulsed through him in waves, his cock twitching and jerking in his brother’s hand. The orgasm rippled through him like the tide over rocks, unending, and Auguste held him through it with a steady weight.

Laurent was barely aware of his body curling against Auguste’s chest, of the mewling whimpers he was making, of the way the pleasure pulsed in ripples as a side effect of the chalis. It was just the two of them, coming together in the baths, cocks pressed together in one tender hand.

And then Auguste grabbed him, and Laurent giggled bonelessly as the tenderness turned to roughness in an instant.

He was always like this, soft at first, seeking Laurent’s pleasure – and when he’d caught it, forcing Laurent to take it again and again until he could do nothing but wail in overstimulation around his brother’s cock. He was not the king’s advisor when Auguste handled him like this, but simply a little boy overwhelmed with come and cock inside him until he begged that he couldn’t take another orgasm or he’d go mad.

Auguste bent him over the side of the bath, hip creases pressed firmly into the lip of it, chalis keeping his cock hard even though he’d just come. There was oil beside them – always oil, little glass vials of it hidden in their bedrooms, in the baths, in the libraries even, because their appetites were insatiable.

The slick sounds of Auguste sliding his fingers along his own thick cock were enough to make precome drip out of Laurent, were enough to make his toes curl. The marble floor was cold against his chest and his nipples pebbled against it. The sensation made him whine and whimper, and he rutted those pink buds along the floor for some traction.

Chalis heightened all sensations as much as it dulled his mind. Laurent _felt_ the pop and squelch of oil against his brother’s cock. The floor seemed to be sucking at his nipples as he writhed against the floor like a cat in heat. It was terrifyingly erotic, his body reduced to nothing but feeling.

Auguste didn’t bother to finger him – they fucked so frequently Laurent was always stretched out and pliant, walls tender with arousal and hole pink and waiting. Leftover oil and come slicked him up near-constantly, leaving him wet like a woman might be, ready for his brother’s cock whenever his brother wanted it.

Instead, all Laurent felt was the hard, reassuring weight of Auguste’s cock at his puckered hole. Auguste pressed in, and Laurent was _gone_.

If fucking Auguste was wrong, why did they fit together so well? Why did their bodies slot perfectly against each other, Auguste’s arms surrounding him like reassurance, like safety, his chest pressed to Laurent’s back like he wanted their vast planes of exposed skin to fuse together. Even as August rutted into him like an animal, he took care of Laurent, suckling on the skin of his collar from behind like he wanted to claim him for all of Vere to see.

Laurent moaned into the floor. The chalis pipe, long forgotten by the bath, still smoked faintly. As Auguste fucked him, Laurent took another deep drag of it, letting the smoke puff out of his lungs in time with Auguste’s thrusts.

“Auguste,” Laurent gasped, jolting at each splash of hot water on the backs of his thighs, at each slap of Auguste’s skin against his. It was overwhelming, drugged like this, and Laurent clung to the warm cocoon of Auguste’s body over his. “Auguste, Auguste-”

As if hearing his thoughts, Auguste reached over to dig tight fingers into his forearm, curled in front of him. Laurent shivered at the painfully tight grip, wondering if it was wrong how safe he felt with those little pinpricks of too-tight pressure, wondering if that was more wrong than Auguste’s cock in his ass splitting him deliciously open.

Laurent would bruise at his hips tomorrow, but he didn’t care, not when he felt such delicious fullness in his ass, his walls tender and sore and quivering as Auguste pushed in and out of him. His hole sucked in Auguste’s oil-slick cock, clenching hungrily around it, soft and welcoming as his mouth and throat. He’d worked tirelessly to accommodate that thick length when he was younger, letting Auguste work thick fingers into his virgin-tight hole, massaging and spreading him open.

He could only take the tip at first, and he wept at the distance between them, begging Auguste to lose patience and fuck him harder as his hole tightened around the painfully sweet intrusion. Every new inch Auguste had sunk into him was like the blossoming of their relationship as each calendar year passed.

And now, Auguste fucked him _hard_ , knowing he’d be limping tomorrow – knowing that Laurent would leave the baths with come dripping down his thighs and desperately trying to keep it in, trying to keep the night with him as long as he could.

“Auguste,” Laurent wailed.

Auguste gripped his steam-damp hair and pulled his head up, mouthing at his neck wetly.

“Call me what I like,” Auguste growled against his ear. “You know what I like.”

He did. Laurent did. He knew everything Auguste liked – the slow flick of Laurent’s tongue on the underside of his cock, that tender spot behind his earlobe, the way Laurent’s thighs looked straddled atop him like his horse – and this.

“Brother,” Laurent gasped, desperate, “Brother, please, harder. _Harder_.”

Auguste whimpered, utterly undone. He sunk his teeth into Laurent’s neck like a claiming wolf, pistoned his hips to send his cock even deeper into Laurent’s plush, soft ass.

“Brother,” Laurent shrieked, so loud it echoed off the walls, and then Auguste had him by the arms and wrenched him up from the floor. His whole body shook, the drug blurring all sensation into a haze of overwhelming pleasure, and Auguste clutched him tight enough to bruise. One hand clenched at his elbow, the other at his throat, not tight enough to constrict but powerful and owning.

“The gods above must truly favor my rule,” Auguste breathed into his ear, “If they let me fuck you like this. All the years I dreamed about your ass, your pink hole when you bent over innocently in the baths, and now I get to have it.”

“B-brother,” Laurent whined, pliant in his hands. If only he’d known Auguste was looking. Hadn’t he overemphasized his devotion enough to make Auguste want to bathe with him even when it was far past the point of being decent?

There was no bathing together decently now, and it curled his toes pleasantly to think of all the missed opportunities they could make up for now. How had he ever let himself believe that Auguste’s hand over his cock as a teen, murmuring, “Don’t worry, Laurent, I can show you what to do to feel good,” could ever have been innocent.

“Fuck,” Auguste gasped, “Fuck, Lulu, I’m coming-”

“Inside,” Laurent mewled, desperate, “Come inside. Please. I need to feel you inside me when I sleep tonight.”

Auguste bit Laurent’s ear, the pain going right to his cock.

“I won’t let you sleep tonight,” he hissed, but there was the hint of a smile at his lips when he said it.

“I’m coming too,” Laurent moaned, dizzy with lust. “Auguste, brother, I’m coming.”

Auguste let go of his throat and gripped his cock, pumping him with those rough, tender hands. His orgasm swelled like a wave approaching shore, crashing over him and making him scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining come coating his brother’s hands, and _clenched_ -

Hot, wet warmth spurted into him, and he wailed at the feeling of it inside of him. It went deep, so deep, coating his sensitive walls that twitched alongside the contractions of his orgasm. Fuck, it felt so, so good.

With the haze of chalis in his mind, it seemed to go on forever. He was coming, and coming, sobbing in his brother’s arms as his brother pumped cum deep inside of him. It was beautiful, it was filthy, it was-

It was over.

Laurent flopped forward gracelessly, keening. Come dripped out of his swollen hole, and Auguste collapsed over top of him, gasping into his ear. The musk of sex filled the air, overpowering the lingering sweetness of bathing oils and the rough smoke of chalis.

A swift slap to the supple flesh of his ass made him squeak, the sound horribly undignified, and he flushed.

Only Auguste could make him lose his composure like this. Only Auguste would ever know him like this, know the dirty, filthy parts of him that craved his brother’s cock like a cat mewling for cream. The thought made him shudder with delight, spent and sated and still leaking out of his tender hole.

“Mm,” Auguste moaned in exhaustion. “I wish we could stay forever like this.”

Laurent smiled. He wished it too.

Instead, though, he wriggled around to face Auguste and murmured, “I thought you weren’t going to let me sleep tonight?”

**Author's Note:**

> and then they fucked all night


End file.
